Gesture
by Fortune Maiden
Summary: A moment of stress and a moment of comfort…


**Gesture**

_A moment of stress and a moment of comfort…_

* * *

This wasn't shaping up to be a good week. The never-ending rain made leaving the castle impossible, approaching deadlines for this and that kept everyone too busy and snappish to remember basic manners and no matter where he went or who he talked to, it was always "Not now, Ienzo" or "Go away, Runt" or "You are more than capable of entertaining yourself for a few hours. _Do so_".

The last one had come from Even. It wasn't anything Ienzo wasn't already used to hearing, but it still _hurt_. Everyone was usually so mindful to include him in their discussions and listen to his conclusions (derived from _well thought out research _mind you), but as soon as something pressing came up, he was suddenly a burden—a child they humored a bit when the workload was light, but not actually someone who's thoughts mattered.

He already knew that he wouldn't be much help in things like this. He wasn't even trying to butt in that time. All he'd wanted was for one of those genetically-blessed giants to help him reach the top shelf. For all the times they yelled at him for climbing the shelves and risking injury, they were sure unwilling to follow through when he actually asked for help. Even Aeleus dismissed him.

Well they were right. They warned him that the shelves wouldn't hold his weight and they were right. Ienzo could only stare blankly at the mountain of books and slabs of wood before him. The book he'd wanted was in his hands but he couldn't feel any triumph from grabbing it. Nor could he feel relief at being able to avoid any serious injuries. The books pelted his back as they fell, but light bruising was the worst he could expect from that.

Master Ansem would be upset. Even would yell. _Good. Let them_, Ienzo thought and kicked one of the books at his feet angrily. It was all their fault for not helping him anyway. He got what he wanted from that excursion, so the pile of books wasn't his problem anymore. It wasn't like he could fix the shelves on his own anyway. He couldn't do anything on his own at all, it seemed.

He didn't feel like reading anymore. The book in his hands felt like a block of concrete and Ienzo wanted to chuck it across the room too. It was only the rational part of his mind telling him that damaging the book would be upsetting that kept him from doing so. With a slight sniff (from the dust of course—he wasn't going to cry over _this_), he set the book aside and began digging through the pile. He couldn't fix the shelves, but he could make neat stacks on the floor for the others to put back later. It would "entertain him for a few hours" at least.

Ienzo wasn't sure how long he'd been working when Xehanort appeared. It must have been a while though; the mountain of books didn't looks so intimidating anymore, even through all the dust in the air. He didn't even hear Xehanort come in. One moment he'd been sorting books, and the next he glanced up to find the newest apprentice staring down at him in puzzlement.

Outside of their research discussions, Xehanort was a man of few words. This was perfectly fine when Braig was hanging over him to do all the needed talking, but it left him suitably awkward on his own. Even now it was clear he had no idea how he was supposed to react to Ienzo sprawled out on the floor with a huge mess in front of him. But that suited Ienzo just fine. It meant he could just ignore him.

Ienzo had no trouble working with Xehanort watching a few feet away, but in truth he wished the man would either say something or go away already. He wasn't about to ask for help or pour his heart out if that's what Xehanort was waiting for. The awkward silence continued until the older apprentice finally approached him and knelt down beside him.

"Are you alright?"

His words were uneasy. Anyone with eyes could see that _no_, Ienzo was not alright, and Ienzo didn't have any words to waste on such an annoying question. Xehanort would have done well to just leave. Instead he just calmly started to pick up books and stack them as well.

Ienzo scowled and snatched a nearby book before Xehanort could take it. He didn't feel like speaking, so he hoped his dejected glare would get the message across. _I can do it myself_.

It did. "Right," Xehanort leaned back and started picking up the fallen shelves, "I'll just put these back then." It must have been nice to be so tall. After he replaced the shelves, he started putting back the completed stacks. The books were numbered so even he could tell where they were supposed to go. Ienzo watched him work with growing irritation. Where was he when Ienzo got himself into this mess? It wasn't like he was any help to the others either when it came to debating Radiant Garden's policies.

Xehanort was staring at him again. Did he expect a thank you or something now? No, Ienzo frowned when their eyes met. He seemed more perplexed—concerned almost. The stillness of the moment continued until, without warning, Xehanort suddenly raised his hand, gently placed it on Ienzo's head and ruffled his hair.

…_What_?

Ienzo recoiled from the contact, and Xehanort did as well, as if he himself wasn't even sure why he reached out like that. His body had acted on its own, and Xehanort could only stare at his offending hand solemnly.

"Forgive me, I don't know what came over me," Xehanort frowned, "I just _felt_ like I should do that." His words lacked their usual weight, but Ienzo had never heard such… sincerity in them.

Was it a lost memory surfacing? Did Xehanort used to be the type of person who would comfort someone by ruffling their hair like that? Funny, Ienzo never would have thought that.

Xehanort was an enigma. When they were in the labs, in the heat of discussion, he was passionate, confident—even arrogant in his claims. He spoke in a dramatic persuasive tone, and everything just made so much _sense_ when he said it.

But outside of those discussions, he was quiet, he was unsure of himself; the confident orator completely disappeared. Even factoring in his amnesia, he seemed like a completely different person.

Ienzo watched Xehanort pick up the lone book remaining on the floor, study the cover for a moment and then hold it out to him.

"I believe this will be a far better use of your time than moping about." Ienzo took the book and clutched it to his chest. Just like that, the concerned Xehanort vanished again behind a bravado of composure. Ienzo wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat, so all he could manage was a small affirmative grunt. Xehanort hadn't expected an answer though and just nodded at him, turned around, and left.

Ienzo could still feel the warmth from Xehanort's hand on his head. It was a strange gesture, but he couldn't deny that it felt rather nice. It was a strange gesture, but the knot of stress and frustration was already starting to unravel.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for reading :)

It's been a while since I've written a short quiet piece but I rather like how this turned out. I kinda wish I could've written it last week when I was stressed and frustrated and in need of a comforting head pat of my own, but yeah...

Old character notes from Nomura reveal that Zexion and Xemnas had a student-teacher like relationship, so it is something I kinda want to see explored (or explore myself). Other than that I don't really have much else to say about this piece, so yeah, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear any feedback :)

Until next time :)


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